Dare to HOPE

Only twenty six days left until I meet my son.  This has been quite a journey filled with many emotions, thoughts, prayers, and pleas.  Closing in on April 20th has brought it's fair share of all of the above. 

We have busily been working on our little guy's room and preparing for a baby in our home once again.  We have been praying for baby boy and singing to him as a family every night before bed.  The girls absolutely love this.  What follows is always a discussion about his name.  "Decide now, decide NOW", the girls chant, as they plead for their name choices. We are getting closer to naming him,  but are not 100% sure just yet.  So he remains "little man", "little guy", or "baby boy" for now. 

There is a great deal of emotion running through us these last few weeks.  There is so much joy and anticipation for new life and our growing family.  AND .... closing in on the final weeks is also a reminder of the trauma we experienced 17 months ago in my final week of pregnancy with Kate. The pain of the loss has been rising up.  There has definitely been a struggle for hope.  I won't bore you with all of my thought processes, and prayers, and things I have been learning; but HOPE is complicated.  It just is.  If I really dare to fully hope then I must also fully remember.  I must remember, taste, and see the beauty of God's glory and goodness in those moments when "all is well".  I mean, this is what we all hope for, right?  Those returned moments of complete and pure joy and delight.  If I dare to honestly and fully remember His sweetness, then I also honestly remember the ache.   I ache because I remember and know the suffering,  loss, and pain that comes on this journey called life.  Biblical hope is filled with tension.  We long for what is to come ..... perfection, a new heaven and a new earth ......  but we live HERE, this side of heaven, where things are broken and not all is "right". 
So as we hope, we desire.  As we desire, we long.  As we long, we remember .... what was (or what wasn't).  It's complicated and I can't fully wrap my mind around it, but I am learning to embrace these mysteries.  These mysteries are what call us to faith.  I am learning to embrace the ache that comes with desire, and let God comfort me here.  This is where I am moved from the threats of fear and despair FORWARD into hope.  Hope that reminds "all will be well with me ...... no matter what".  I can believe that statement because it is God's promise to me, and because my soul has known it.  My soul knows what it is to have joy and mourning.  What it is to have brokenness and beauty.  What is is to have fear and courage.  

As Jan Meyers shares in her book on hope, "Hope is not something outside of us to be found or lost, it is something that rises up in us with a gentle strength that requires a response."  So in these final days before birth,  I am choosing to respond even when response brings a deepened thirst, a deepened ache.  I will choose to fully feel the desires, the longings, the pain, and the loss.  Here is where I bring my most vulnerable self to my most loving Father for his comfort, love, security, and promise.  Here is where my faith finds it's voice.  Where my faith is alive and breathing, where I allow myself to be human and God to be God.   Here is where I find myself fully available and present to my son and his life inside of me.  Here is where I choose not to live in fear of what may happen and therefore miss out on the NOW.  Here is where I experience the excitement of the new life God is bringing to us ...... no matter what.  Here is where I dare to HOPE.  

Hope and Hallelujah

I sat at a dinner table recently to celebrate the birthday of one of our dearest friends.  As I thought about the four couples we would be sharing dinner with, my heart swelled.  It swelled with heartache, compassion, inspiration, and love.  These people have endured so much; many of them in the last year.   All day, I prayed a simple prayer, hallelujah.   Just a little over one year ago, that word came to life for me at the memorial service for my daughter who was born still at 39 weeks.  The service began, and during the opening song I did not utter a word until my friend sang from the stage, “I will be still and I will know that you are God, Oh hallelujah”.  I suddenly began to sing out loud with everything in me.  Somewhere in my innermost being my soul awoke and I began to worship spontaneously. I sang in agreement, proclaiming “He is God” …. even though I didn’t understand why this had become our story, and even though my heart was completely broken.

So I whispered Hallelujah throughout the day leading up to this dinner party.  Exclaiming praise to God even though one couple lost a 9 year old daughter tragically 7 months ago.  Even though that 9 year old was another couple’s niece.  Even though a wife, mom, and friend is going through treatment for breast cancer without a very good prognosis. The “hallelujah whispers” kept me claiming the promises of God all day, even though doubt was knocking.  I claimed that His ways and his thoughts are higher than mine.  I claimed that he holds our hands through the darkest of nights.  I claimed that true joy rests in his eternal promise of heaven.   As I claimed these things over the people at that table during the day, and I listened to them talk that evening, I heard another word ringing in my ears.  HOPE. 

Though none of us are perfectly faithful everyday; and the pain of loss and disease can be excruciating and derailing, there is a profound lesson being learned in the lives of my friends.  The things of this world really have nothing lasting to offer us.  We have many things to enjoy here.  Our possessions, our health, our children, our friendships, and our jobs are all earthly blessings, but they are all just momentary.  The enjoyment of these things is but a breath here on this earth.  While we can hope FOR all of these wonderful pleasures of life, it is death to place our hope IN these things.  In a moment, any of them can be taken. And if our hope is in them we feel destroyed, confused, miserable, and in despair. There is only ONE who is worthy of our hope.  Jesus, who came and gave his life for every sorrow and every pain that our hearts must endure.   Jesus, who conquered death and promises to make all things new.  Jesus, our cornerstone and strong foundation.  A hope placed in Jesus brings life in the midst of death.  It brings joy in mourning, and peace in chaos.  Hope in Him causes a Hallelujah to rise even though …..

So I sat, listened, and watched my friends fight for HOPE at that dinner table.  They inspire me as they authentically walk this journey of faith, receiving grace upon grace to face their days.  And for that I shout, “HALLELUJAH”! 

Forward, not "on"

The sadness has been ever so present again, the tears flowing freely.  It feels as though I have come upon a very unwelcome detour in my grief process. 
There is one problem in that last statement.  None of it probably appears "good" (grief, detour, sadness), but truly it's okay - most of it.  See, there is no problem with grief; it is in fact the most healthy and sane thing I can continue to do in this season after loss.  And there is no problem with detour.  A detour just gives us another pathway to an end.  In this case an end that is my healing.  So where the problem lies is with that one word - unwelcome.  The one that I DO have control over.  The one that will change everything for me in this space and time.  

As I ponder the word, unwelcome, I think of words like cold, hard, and resistant.  If I am honest this has become the state of my heart in recent weeks.  Why is it so hard to welcome the pain, once again?  To accept and try to understand the root of it.  To press into, and grieve.   The reasons are many, but the truth is I must.  I must feel and experience the sadness, without judgement of self, to find a way forward.  To move through.

Yet not "move on".

That is the tension that has been causing so much angst and most likely the resistance in my soul.  How do I move forward in this place without moving on?  Moving on - and away from my Kate Ryan.  The first year after loss felt protected in so many ways.  It felt safe and okay and understandable to want to keep Kate alive in our hearts and in our life.  I wrote monthly birthday letters, we talked about her often, the girls drew, we hung pictures and made photo albums, we grieved, alone and with others.  We honored her life on her birthday with a special celebration.  These are just a few of the ways she has remained part of us.  Then came the beginning of year two, and right on top of the holidays of course.  The whirlwind of the season was swirling around me, but my heart felt frozen.  Stuck.  It wanted to scream and cry but it didn't seem like there was time, space, or freedom.  Feeling alone, I just ached.   

As things have slowed down and stilled, my heart has begun to dethaw.  It hasn't been pretty but it has been necessary.  Grief is necessary and it is healing.  I love Psalm 56:8.  It says, "You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book."  This verse has been such comfort to me as I have mourned deeply this week.  As I have dreamed of who she would be right now.  (absolutely pure deliciousness!)  As I have missed her presence.  
As I fight to keep her alive and part of us in this second year .... and ALWAYS.  As I prepare this week to begin changing her room into her baby brother's.  It's killing me if I am honest, but it is right and it is time.  I will, this week, with the help of a cherished friend clean out the rest of her things and prepare to move forward.   The truth is she is always a part of us.  My SON will not replace Kate Ryan. (and how sweet of the Lord to give us a SON, right?)  He will not replace her .... that may seem like a gigantic "duh", but my mother's heart overrides logic here.  My heart feels protective of her; that she be remembered and always have a place.  Kate has impacted us so deeply and will always be my 3rd child.  My last daughter.  She is engraved on our hearts forever, so I will not fear.  The scriptures remind us that perfect love casts out fear, and my Father IS perfect love.  His good and perfect gifts are from above and are birthed from a heart of LOVE.  This is true of Kate Ryan and our new boy on the way.  So I cannot fear.  I will not fear moving into and through the hard moments ahead.   Because we are not moving on; but moving forward in this season that is pregnant not only with new life but also with trust, hope and faith. 

A letter to my girl - ONE YEAR!

My precious Kate,

It is the day of your first birthday.  I rested my head on my pillow last night with tears falling, and I awoke this morning to what seemed like the same tears on my cheeks.  They were crying the same thing, "my love, oh how I miss you".  And oh, how near you feel on this day, in these hours.  It's not just another day of missing you, like it seems it should be.  It marks so much, this date .... November 17th, and it forever will.  It will forever be a holy date to me.

The missing you is very deep, very real, and so tangible today.  My heart is faint within me as I feel you once more.  As I remember what it was to have you in my arms.  Such love, such sorrow, such a sacred moment in time that will be with me forever.  It was the most dreadful day of my life in some ways, yet I would go back in a heartbeat to be with you.  Right now, I would run as fast as I could to that hospital room and experience it all over if I knew we could be together. Oh to experience you, my daughter, before my eyes and in my arms.

There has been a tension in me all week as your birthday has been approaching.  The tension of missing you and celebrating you.  By God's grace, our hearts ARE free to celebrate.  So we did on Saturday night.   We celebrated where you are, who you are with, and the wholeness and joy you know.  We celebrated God's goodness in the midst of tragedy and how we have experienced his promises to be true.  And we celebrated one another, Kate's biggest fans, who have held one another up and loved each other as we have experienced this devastating loss.  You are much to lose and much to be celebrated.  I have had endless gifts, phone calls, texts and emails today reminding how you mattered.  How you matter!  Lives changed because of you my sweet girl.  People understanding the hope and promises of Christ beyond this earth.  People grasping God's love for them.  People learning to trust, not in the things of this world, but in the kingdom of heaven.  People actually praising God and understanding his goodness in the wake of unthinkable pain.  People even entertaining the thought of a God who loves and cares for them.  People drawn together.  It's truly beautiful what your sweet presence brought to this earth, Kate.  You have forever changed hearts, minds, and futures.  God has been forming us as individuals and as a people.  We are thankful.

Our night remembering and celebrating Kate Ryan.  The perfect company, great food, heart felt words and prayers, flowers, wine, tears, laughter, hugs, lighted balloons released in the night sky .... all for you my love.

So, on your birthday, you, Kate Ryan.... just rejoice. Be loved. Be near. Know how cherished you are. Run. Play.  Know how missed you are....how you will always be deep in my heart where you belong.  You are mine, forever my youngest girl.  And we ..... we will hold tight another day to Jesus as we miss you and remember the GLORIOUS and HOLY day that was November 17th, 2013.  We will cry, remember, love, laugh, and sing to you.  We will fix our eyes on Jesus, who holds us all.

Daddy and mommy starting a new tradition of a special lunch and Andres dessert.

Girls wanted to sing happy birthday at breakfast as we do on all birthday mornings in our home.

I feel you again deep in my bones today.  All the memories washing ashore to my heart and mind.  There is a pure and holy missing today.  It is clearly Kate Ryan's day.  You are ever present in us all; unmistakable that it is the day you graced us with your presence one short year ago.  Our hearts are uniquely tender,  and so is HIS peace that is tending to us.  We mark this day to love and honor you, while you have marked us for a lifetime .... changed forever.

Happy Birthday Kate Ryan Swob!!
I love you to the moon and back,
Mommy

HOPE

This pregnancy journey has been filled with enormous amounts of grace from the very beginning.  As I laid eyes on those 2 pink lines, I am not sure if my heart stopped or jumped out of my chest. I think it did both simultaneously.  I felt completely overwhelmed with fear, joy, excitement, anxiety, love, grief ..... all in a matter of minutes ..... they rushed in and out and through me.  And very shortly after, I began to experience the grace of God being poured out.  I remembered, suddenly remembered, words people had said to me over the last few months about this moment in time.  God was reminding me of how He was in this.  My heart relaxed in his presence, knowing He was all over this.   I was so thankful in those moments for all those who had been praying for us and even responding when prompted. 

It was a Tuesday when we found out.  The Friday prior,  I had tackled Kate's room for the first time.  Grace.  Two days later, on Sunday, I was baptized, symbolizing my new life in Christ.  Yes, new life.  Grace.  What a beautiful expression of God's love and care just to give me these little glimpse of his hand on me, on us.  I knew this was all going to be okay. 

There is a confidence running through me because I know deep down that God's hand is all over this gift of new life.  I carry this confidence with me, but I cannot say it is unwavering.  This has been, and will continue to be, a scary journey for us.  It's just a different pregnancy this time around.  Different than the other three.  I know things I didn't know before.  The fragility of it all.  I take nothing for granted.  Every day that this little guy is with me I give thanks and love him with all of my heart.   Some days I can't even hope past today so I continue to give thanks.  That is my act of worship and praise.  

I have wrestled with God's trustworthiness.  That in itself has been discouraging to me after all we have seen him be and do for us.  How could I struggle?   I KNOW that He is trustworthy because I have experienced it over and over in my life, but I have days where I still question.... will he be in this??  Will he be trustworthy in the way I really want him to be?  He is faithful and will carry us through anything.  I know who he is in the darkness.  But to be truthful, that's not how I want to experience him this time.  I honestly don't want to know how good he will be in the hard times.  I want a healthy baby in my arms.  That's what I want.  This is the wrestling I am doing with him right now.  I walked away from a conference this weekend saying "I am going to believe my God IS and WILL BE trustworthy, and that I am going to allow myself to hope.  I am going to let myself be loved."  So I am doing my best.  To stay by God's side and allow him to love me through every fear.  To allow him to comfort me as only he can.  This is working out my salvation with fear and trembling.  Placing my hope in him and continuing to cry out to him with the desires of my heart.  Trusting.  

It's not easy, but it's also really beautiful.  A sweet friend reminded me the other day that this is the beginning of my little guy's story.  Our story.  Something only we will share.  It's helping me to embrace the hard parts and not just want the pregnancy to be over.  That's not really a way to live .... just wishing things away. Wanting and waiting for the end result.  That is not living my life in Christ.  I want to do this with my Father, to recieve his GRACE, find the beauty in the hard things, and hope and trust in him for my daily bread.  This is what it is to live fully alive in Him as I wait.  He is the gift in the waiting.  My prayer is that I would receive the gift daily, or hourly, so that this process is much more than a process.  It is a beautiful journey willed with peace, love, and grace.  A journey that is  just the beginning of my little guy's story.  A story of HOPE. 

 

 

 

Miracles

I am so very blessed by my two miracles, Jadyn and Maci, that are beside me every day.  I am blessed by my miracle, Kate,  that is above me in heaven.   And I am blessed these recent days by the little miracle inside me that is baby boy Swob. 

Yes, it's true.  A pregnancy.  New life.  A boy.   It's all still soaking in.  I am only 14 weeks but we had blood work done that was able to reveal the gender.  We are thrilled and wanted to share our wonderful news.  I look forward to sharing more about the journey this pregnancy has already been and what it will continue to be.    But for today, that's all I have!  A fun announcement! 

11 months - a letter to my girl

Sweet baby girl,

It’s absolutely unbelievable to think that you would be 11 months old today my Kate.   That is only one month away from being ONE YEAR old.  It breaks me and it also raises up in me a need to celebrate.  To celebrate and remember the day we met you.  A desire to celebrate that we have made it this far, when in the early days tomorrow seemed impossible to reach.  And my heart longs to remember the faithfulness of God to us in our deepest of pain over the last year.   All of this a culmination of my love for you sweet baby.  My love for you has kept me going.  It’s kept me grieving and kept me hoping.   My tears are a way I feel near to you again.  My hoping reminds me of the perfect home you enjoy, and that one day we will share the wonders of that place. 

There is a song called "Glory Baby" that has comforted me over the months.  A friend wrote out the lyrics and gave them to me the day we said goodbye to you.  Yesterday a sweet friend sent this picture as she was remembering you ..... remembering us.  And they are perfect words for you today sweet girl. 

Yes, do this Kate Ryan.  Run to sweet Jesus and let him hold you.  Let his arms hold you .... His perfect love hold you, until we can.  

I love you to the moon and back,

Mommy